


Staying Busy

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Series: Tumblr Fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Daddy Kink, Dub/Non-Consensual Act, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masochism, Prompt Fill, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Chris/Isaac - Prostitute/Client AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staying Busy

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, what are you talking about? I didn't draw from one of the only good parts of Nymphomaniac. Psh, ha, nah, brah, that ain't me.

"How old are you, again?" the man asked, sitting back in a wooden chair behind a wooden desk in a nearly empty, cream colored room. His voice was deep and quiet. Isaac had expected as much, but it still felt nice to be proven right, especially when the man’s voice was some sort of soft, gravely rumble that made him feel warm and shaky all over.

However, besides the voice, and the fact that the man was older and handsome, Isaac had been wrong in all of his other assumptions. He’d thought the room would be warmer, with a fireplace and a bed with red satin covers and wall of crops and whips. However, besides the desk and the chair, there was only one, small locker and a worn, ugly, leather couch. He’d also figured the man would be dressed up more - like all of the daddy dom’s he had seen while searching for this. Instead, the man was just wearing a tight, dark shirt and dark jeans. Most importantly, he had been sure that the man would look at him with at least a slight amount of interest, or at least try to. 

"Legal." he said, a little too fast. The man leveled an unimpressed look with him, one eyebrow raised. Isaac shifted on his feet and tried to seem sure of himself. "I’m nineteen. Do you want to see my ID?"

"No." the man said, very seriously. "I don’t want to know anything about you." 

"Oh." Isaac said. It figured as much. He crossed his arms over his chest a little defensively. 

The man stared at him and said a slow, “Are you sure you’re at the right place? Wouldn’t you prefer someone nice to go slow and take care of you?” Isaac hesitated and then shook his head. The man continued to consider him carefully, and said a louder, “I really don’t think this is for you. I’m not sure you understand what you’re getting yourself in to here.”

Isaac maintained that he was exactly where he wanted to be.

After another few moments of cold scrutiny, the man finally said, “There are a few rules you need to understand before we start.” 

"Sure," Isaac nodded. 

"You pay upfront each time; cash. If you’re late for an appointment, I will stop seeing you completely until you submit a formal apology for wasting my time." He inspected some paperwork on his desk, and Isaac had absolutely no idea what this man would be doing with paperwork of any sort. Conversationally, he continued, "You may speak freely until I decide you don’t deserve to. When we’re done here, you can have a minute, and then get your things and leave. You will take care of yourself on your own time - at least enough to make sure there’s no infection  I don’t use safe words.This is not a safe space - and if you ask me to stop while we’re in this room, I will ignore you. I don’t care if you’re uncomfortable. And, I don’t fuck you. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any questions?" 

"What’s your name?" Isaac ventured, knowing he looked probably stupidly hopeful.

"That’s not any of your business," the man informed him, "But you can call me Sir. Is there anything else?"

"No, Sir."

And that made him smile. Isaac blinked, sort of feeling like a deer in the headlights because he had already given up on pleasing this man like that. They waited another second until Isaac got with the program and started digging through his sidebag for the cash he’d brought in payment. 

Placing it on the desk between them, the man started to count it carefully, all of his attention off the boy. Not looking up, he ordered a calm  ”Take off you pants and underwear and lean over the arm of the couch.”

"Do you want me to take off my shirt?" Isaac asked.

The man glanced up and then back down to keep counting. “Why would I want you to do that?” 

So, Isaac undressed and folded his clothes neatly and left them on top of his shoes on the floor by the couch. Hips resting on the arm of the chair, he eased himself forward, elbows bracing against the firm, leather seat. He strained his neck to try and look at the man as he took his time, and then looked at the couch in front of him. 

"Uhm," Isaac started, pushing himself up, as he spotted a few ropes hanging over the opposite end of the couch. Oh, shit, how had he missed those? "Sir, are you going to tie me up? Because the site I found you on didn’t mention that and usually they do so I figured - "

"I only use it if someone can’t keep still." and he finally stood, pacing over to the locker, unhurried. Isaac let himself sink forward again, watching him carefully. He moved with a very controlled grace, picking out a few things from the locker, and Isaac, having a hard time looking away, felt his cock stir the tiniest bit in excitement.

Finally, after far too long, the man came to stand behind him. Isaac worked hard to stay very still, although his legs felt restless and his thighs were already close to trembling. To help, he buried his face in his crossed arms before him, and exhaled shakily, but quietly, when he felt the man’s warm, rough hand touch his cheek. 

"You’re tall," the man hummed, his thumb lazily stroking over his ass, and Isaac liked to believe he sounded pleased. "That helps."

"Does it, Sir?" Isaac asked, voice muffled and timid.

"I don’t have to work to get you at the right height. That’s good."

Isaac didn’t know what to say, but he did feel slightly proud of himself - even if that was a little stupid. 

"I’m going to warm you up with my hand, then I’ll use my gloves. After that, you’ll collect your things and leave until we schedule another appointment. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." 

"I’m going to hit you ten times with my just my hand, and then twenty times after that." And he didn’t say anything else. Isaac tried to keep himself calm, but could feel himself tensing in anticipation.

"Do I count?" he rushed out, hoping it didn’t seem too obvious that he was nervous.

"Did I ask you to?"

"No."

And he was spanked once, hard, on his right cheek. His breath hitched in, shocked, and his legs jumped a little, but he stayed relatively still and quiet. “That’s your answer then.” And he was smacked once more. 

Gritting his teeth and only remembering to breathe when he was starting to feel lightheaded, he choked on an inhale on the fifth hit and exhaled in an open mouth groan on the sixth, when the man switched sides.

It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable, and the whole thing was making him feel warm and muddled, the skin on his ass humming, his cock half hard as he moaned into his arms. 

The man pulled back after ten and Isaac listened to him pulling on his leather gloves. He was flushed, overheated in his shirt, panting slightly, but mostly at ease. It hurt, but in that nice, empty way things without passion sometimes did. He was sighing to himself, relaxing into his folded position over the couch when the first blow came smacking down. 

It stopped him completely for a second. He was made some aborted, open sound, as he couldn’t process all of the sensation. He wasn’t even given time to breathe through that, as the man immediately started laying into him in a steady, methodical, increasingly painful manner. 

Isaac didn’t know if he was hitting harder or if he was just getting too sore to handle this, but when the man changed his angle a little and started to attack just under his asscheeks and his upper thighs, Isaac could feel himself leaking precome and writhing just a little and, only after he started, hear himself sobbing, “ _Daddy,”_

The man stopped before Isaac realized what he said, and when he did, he babbled a panicked, “Sir, I’m sorry, Sir.”

"What did you call me?" 

"Sir, I didn’t mean to."

"But what did you call me?" the man growled, hitting him once more on his left cheek.

“ _Daddy_.” he keened, squirming even more, his hips pushing against the arm of the couch, looking for some kind of purchase.The man stepped away, leaving Isaac hot and aching and alone, his knees quivering uselessly. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded, mindlessly, not knowing how to beg for him to come back. “I won’t again.”

"It’s fine," the man gruffed out, and it didn’t sound fine. It sounded stilted, his voice even lower, and he didn’t look at the boy as he came to the other end of the couch to grab the ropes. "You’re just moving too much."

"No, don’t tie me up." Isaac said, frantically, as the man caught his hands. He tried to pull back but he was shaking too much to be effective and the man was binding his wrists together, and then securing them to to the couch. "No, I’ll be better," he promised, kicking his weak and trembling legs up. He could feel his breath coming in ragged as he tried to free himself. "Oh no oh no oh. No, Daddy,  _stop_.” he begged, sobbing, “ _Please_.”

He was crying now, really crying, whining, close to wailing as he shook. He didn’t even realize that the man had stopped and was staring at him, wide eyed and unsure. He was lucky that he was so well supported by the couch because his legs gave out completely as his head swam and he tried to tug away, more and more ineffectively. 

"Oh, let me go, let me  _out,_ " he was whimpering, now oblivious to the man completely. He could barely breathe, and all of his pathetic, broken pleading was muffled, almost too soft to hear. He didn’t feel his wrists being untied, and was unaware of the man sitting on the couch next to him until he was being eased onto his stomach, over the man’s lap. There was a hesitant, ungloved hand on his head, tentatively petting over his hair as he tried to control his breathing. 

As he was coming down, he could hear the man say, “I don’t know why you’d hire someone like me if you throw a fit like that over being restrained.” Isaac almost started crying again, but the man didn’t sound angry, mostly just tired. “Bondage is kind of staple in this community.”

He did manage out a stuttering, breathy sorry.

The man didn’t say anything about that, which was alright, because he kept talking anyway and Isaac did like the sound of his voice. “I told you this wasn’t for you. I didn’t sign up for this hand-holding shit.” He leaned back into the couch as Isaac’s breath evened out into a calm, slightly wet rasp. He turned his head a little, his fingers curling by his mouth, and then man continued to card his fingers through his hair. 

He continued, “Sweet, new thing like you needs someone nicer and younger than me to show you the ropes, Or, uh,” he corrected, huffing to himself, “Maybe not the ropes.” 

"Sorry," Isaac said again, softly. 

Sighing, he said, “i shouldn’t have accepted you. I’m just - used to people who have been around  bit. Thought it’d be nice to shake things up.” 

"I thought you weren’t going to stop." Isaac hushed.

The man’s hand stilled a little, before he said, “Most people don’t have a panic attack when they’re asking me - so, yeah, I usually don’t have to.”

"Oh." and the man started to lightly stroke his hair again. Isaac was glad he couldn’t see his face, because he felt himself blushing as he said, "Sorry about the - the  _Daddy_  thing.”

And the man seemed a little thrown. “It’s, uh…” and he took a second to collect his thoughts, “It’s not a big deal. I don’t mind it.”

"It’s weird." Isaac said, self-conscious, and, before he could stop himself, he added, "It’s weird to want all of this - especially when my dad used to - " He cut himself off abruptly. 

"Where’s your dad now?" the man asked after a pause

"Gone." Isaac stated. "I don’t miss him." he assured the man, too quickly, and pushed himself up gingerly, trying not to irritate his burning, sore ass. The man didn’t say anything, so Isaac asked an unsure, "Do you have kids?"

"I did." and his tone made it clear there was nothing more to say.

They sat quietly for another moment, so Isaac said, “I should go.”

"You can’t come here again." Isaac felt his heart sinking, because none of the other men he’d met with had appealed to him in the slightest, and he didn’t want to start his search all over again. Even if this had gone poorly, he liked the man more than he imagined he could, considering. While wallowing, he missed the man reach into his side pocket and pull out a card. Handing it to the boy, he said, "I doubt you’d be interested, but if you ever want to contact me, we could meet somewhere else."

Isaac stared at the card for a long moment. The man - Chris Argent, the plain, white card said - waited. He furrowed his brow and looked up at him, confused. “You’re a private security consultant and a federally licensed firearms dealer?”

Chris shrugged. “This is more of a hobby. It helps - staying busy.”

"Yeah," Isaac nodded, looking back at the card, understanding a little too well. "I know."

"Don’t worry about calling." Chris said, sounding overly casual. "It’s just a thought. I’m sure you can find someone…" he tried to find the right word, "Better suited for what you want."

Isaac gazed at him, studied him really, and saw how lonely he seemed - and, as handsome as the man was, it wasn’t a good look on him. “Do you have different rules for people you meet outside of here?”

"Absolutely." Chris said immediately, and Isaac smiled at that, and then even more when the man relaxed and smiled back.

He stood on shaky legs, and Chris helped him carefully put his clothes back on. Walking him to the door, Isaac turned back and looked at him. Chris kept his distance, standing a few paces back.

"My name’s Isaac." he said, one hand on the door. He gauged the man’s reaction anxiously, and was relived when he just smiled slightly, and put a hand out for Isaac to take.

Isaac returned the gesture, and Chris squeezed his hand tenderly, warm and gentle. The boy bit his lip and they both let go. 

"Bye, Isaac." he said, and Isaac turned to leave.

Walking out of the room and then the building slowly, achingly, he slipped the card into his pocket. His hand still tingled from the contact, and, despite the obvious, painful bruise he was going to be sitting on for a week, he felt safer and happier than he had in a while. 

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless tumblr plug: [My Blog](http://gigglesnortbangdead.tumblr.com/) Apparently I do (really slow) prompt fills now.
> 
> Also, when I posted this on tumblr, it wouldn't show up in any of the relevant tags I posted it in. Like, mega bummer, man. Anybody know what's up with that?


End file.
